Movie review: Dev Patel is on the run in India in 'Wedding Guest'

By Al Alexander/For The Patriot Ledger

Friday

Mar 8, 2019 at 5:34 AM

We’ve already had "Father of the Bride," "The Princess Bride" and “Runaway Bride,” so is there anywhere to go next but “Kidnapped Bride”? Apparently not in the realm of writer-director Michael Winterbottom, who sends everyone’s favorite slumdog millionaire, the suddenly ripped Dev Patel, off to Pakistan to abduct a betrothed in “The Wedding Guest.”

Come on, girls; which of you wouldn’t love to have a prospective James Bond in Patel make like Christian Grey binding you in duct tape and zip ties to whisk you off in the trunk of his compact rental car to – India? Well, probably not many. But then, Radhika Apte’s gorgeous Samira is not just any woman; she’s a simmering volcano ready to explode into rage over the tangled web of misogyny (see the Oscar-winning “Period. End of Sentence.”) she experiences everywhere she treads in India and Pakistan. And on the eve of her nuptials with her arranged groom, she not only welcomes being snatched by a willowy hunka-hunka stud like Patel’s Jay, she’s borderline giddy.

What’s not to be fascinated with? He’s tall, dark and handsome; packing heat and sounding scholarly via his refined British accent. He’s also deeply mysterious. Where did he get all those passports and aliases? And how did he get the job of fetching damsels in distress – like a Brit version of Joaquin Phoenix’s silent-but-deadly “fixer” in “You Were Never Really Here”?

Sounds exciting, right? Wrong! To the contrary, Winterbottom dwells on the “napping” in kidnapping, turning his would-be thriller into a snooze you lose. No complaints about the two leads. Patel and Apte are sexy as hell, and their chemistry is hotter than a jar of curry. But Winterbottom puts the clamps on them from the start; oblivious to the smoldering romance we so plainly see. Like his popular “Trip” movies with Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon, Winterbottom chews scenery – literally. He can’t get his fill of the stuff – to the detriment of his two fine actors. They’re in the foreground but always secondary to what’s transpiring behind them on the packed city streets, pristine beaches and desolate plains the couple traverse via train, car, bus and scooter while on the lam.

As a travelogue, it’s fascinating, making stops in Delhi, Jaipur, Lahore and Goa; but as an alleged thriller, it’s anything but. I’m not even sure of Winterbottom’s intent. At moments, it’s a cry for gender equality in a nation that likes its women barefoot and pregnant. At others, it’s a slow-burn romance between a kidnapper and his prey. Neither works. Yes, society treats Samira like she’s of little value; but so does Winterbottom, giving her almost zilch in the way of dialogue. As for hooking up, the couple is more like brother and sister than lovers for much of the movie.

Even more obtuse are Samira’s feelings for Deepesh (Jim Sarbh), the Brit who paid Jay £15,000 to fetch her from the altar and return her to him. But when one of the guards outside Simara’s home is killed during the daring abduction, Deepesh no longer wants anything to do with her. Why so cavalier? And why is he so quick to cut ties after going to so much trouble and expense hiring Jay? Who knows? Winterbottom can’t be bothered.

That sends cinematographer Giles Nuttgens to the rescue, capturing the sights and sounds of a part of the world Winterbottom clearly holds dear. A feeling summed up nicely when Samira wistfully reminds Jay that India is a massive country sardining 1.2 billion people. To which, Jay replies: The perfect place for two fugitives to get lost in. If only we were just as lost in their story.